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"For goodness sake don't try to do anything of the sort, Myra," counselled Lady Fermanagh. "Don Carlos is very much a man of the world, and you would be playing with fire. I should judge that he knows women better than most men. And in any case, my dear, it isn't safe to trifle with a Spaniard."

"Concealed in the big antique cabinet in the hall there is a powerful wireless set with which I can pick up any European station, and possibly you noticed that the floor of the hall is really a spring dance-floor, stained to make it seem as ancient as the panelling." "Our host is a magician!" cried Lady Fermanagh.

"Why the deuce didn't you tell us this before, Don Carlos?" The officers had taken their leave after much handshaking and bowing. Left alone with Don Carlos, Standish, and with Lady Fermanagh, who had been a silent and puzzled witness of the proceedings, Myra suddenly felt her self-possession deserting her, and fled back to her own room.

We have already seen that the standing stones of Cavancarragh, four miles from Fermanagh, were, within the memory of men still living or of their fathers, buried under ten or twelve feet of peat, which had evidently formed there after their erection. We have here a natural chronometer; for we know the rate at which peat forms, and we can, therefore, assign a certain age to a given depth.

Troubled in mind, he took his departure, and on his way to his Club he was fortunate enough to meet Lady Fermanagh. "My dear Tony, all women are more or less creatures of impulse, liable to do the most unexpected and quixotic things," her worldly-wise Ladyship told him, when he had explained what had happened and asked her to advise him what to do. "That is what makes us so interesting.

At that moment a footman appeared at the drawing room door. "Pardon, your ladyship," he said. "The Countess of Carbis wishes to speak to you on the telephone." "Good! I particularly want to speak to her," said Lady Fermanagh, rising. "Excuse me, Don Carlos. Myra, my dear, give Don Carlos some tea."

"Well, he's fizzin' now, the hard-hearted ould scoundrel, for keepin' it from you; he forgot who you wor married to, the extortin' ould vagabone to one of the great Fermanagh Maguires, an' he' not fit to wipe their shoes. The curse o' heaven upon you an' him, wherever he is!

Leave me to settle the matter myself with him and to decide my own fate, work out my own destiny. Shall I see him now or wait till morning?" "I think you had better wait till morning, and take time to consider how you are placed," said Lady Fermanagh, after a thoughtful pause, regarding Myra searchingly. "I fancy your mind must be temporarily deranged.

"Here, Barney Scaddhan Barney, I say, what's the reckonin', you sinner? Now, Art Maguire, divil a penny of this you'll pay for you're too ginerous, an' have the heart of a prince." "And kind family for him to have the heart of a prince, sure we all know what the Fermanagh Maguires wor; of coorse we won't let him pay." "Toal Finnigan, do you want me to rise my hand to you?

This, at length, began to make him proud, and to feel that his having given up drink, instead of being simply a duty to himself and his family, was altogether an act of great voluntary virtue on his part. "Few men," he said, "would do it, an' may be, afther all, if I hadn't the ould blood in my veins if I wasn't one of the great Fermanagh Maguires, I would never a' done it."